


If Love Is A Sickness, Then Find Me No Cure

by theatergay



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, drunk cuddling, spot is pretty much babysitting, they're engaged!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 05:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatergay/pseuds/theatergay
Summary: “Gimme your face, I wanna kiss it.” Spot grins and lets Race squirm around in his lap until he's straddling him. Race doesn't hesitate before kissing Spot. He's gentler than he usually is and holds Spot like he's something to be treasured. To Race, he is.-Or: Spot spends his night looking out for a very drunk Race.





	If Love Is A Sickness, Then Find Me No Cure

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "We See The Light" from Something Rotten, and probably also a lot of other sappy shit.

Spot is far from a braggart, but if there's anything he has to give himself credit for, it's getting his incredibly drunk fiancé home on the subway with minimal damages done.

Race stumbles into the living room and flops on the couch heavily. Spot only releases his hand once he's sure that Race is going to land on the couch and not the floor, and sits down next to him.

“Can we have sex?” Race asks, slumping on Spot.

“You're _so_ drunk,” Spot says, sounding someplace between awed and worried.

“Yeah! Can we?”

“Do you want sex or do you want the attention?” It's a reasonable question, and Race frowns at it, his brow furrowing.

“That's not fair,” is what he decides on responding.

“S'okay if you just want the attention. That's fine too.” Race looks distressed at Spot's frankness, but Spot knows better than to continue without asking. The one time that a drunken Race had burst into tears during sex and sobbed _I just want you to love me_ had been one time too many, and Spot isn't about to risk any repeat incidents.

“No, Spot, I-” He cuts himself off and whines, pouting at Spot. He shifts so that he's straddling Spot's lap and leans forward, resting his forehead against Spot's. “Please?”

“Tomorrow, okay?” Spot says. He brings a hand up to Race's cheek and rubs over his face lightly. “You're really drunk right now.”

“But- Spot, I'm not _that_ drunk,” he argues.

“You're absolutely smashed. We can tomorrow, if you still want. When you know what you're agreeing to.” Spot strokes through his hair, playing with the soft curls. Race whines highly again, pulling his forehead off of Spot's.

“Pretty please?” Spot's tempted to say yes, and the wide-eyed hopeful way Race is looking at him doesn't help. He shakes his head anyways and drags his thumb across Race's bottom lip.

“Tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Race goes back to pouting, and Spot kisses him softly. Race doesn't kiss back, but he looks a little less disappointed when Spot pulls away.

“Sorry, pretty boy,” Spot says. Race blushes and murmurs something so quietly that Spot can't hear, despite being less than three inches from his mouth. “What's that?” he asks, both teasing and genuinely curious. Race repeats it but Spot doesn't hear for a second time. “You like me calling you pretty?” he guesses.

“M- _hm_!” Race exclaims, grinning.

“You really are pretty,” Spot tells him. “Your smile is so happy and it makes your eyes sparkle even more than usual. You should smile more often.” Race grins. “Yeah, like that! It's so gorgeous, it fits you so well.”

“Oh.” Race blushes and buries his face in Spot's shoulder.

“You alright?” Spot asks, running his fingers through Race's hair.

“Mhm.”

“Just shy?” Race pulls away from Spot's shoulder and frowns.

“M'not shy,” he says, sounding distraught at the concept. Spot smiles.

“Nah, I know you're not, but you were trying to hide in my shirt just now.”

“Oh! Yeah,” Race says. “I was, huh?”

“You're drunk.”

“Very drunk,” Race agrees. “I wanna cuddle.”

“Okay,” Spot agrees smiling. “You still wanna be on my lap?”

“Yeah!”

“I need ya to get off me for a second then, pretty boy.”

Race shifts his weight enough to let Spot untangle their legs and stand up, offering a hand to Race. Race takes it, stumbling slightly when he stands up. He laughs when Spot grabs his waist to balance him.

“Oops. Oh, that's nice,” he slurs.

“You okay there?” Race brings himself to meet Spot's eyes. He's clearly concerned and smiles gently when Race looks at him and grins.

“Mhm!”

“You're so cute,” Spot mutters. He doesn't intend for Race to hear, but Race giggles high and light. Spot lets go of Race's waist and tugs him to the end of the couch, sitting down with his legs out before pulling Race into his lap.

Race sits down heavily and curls up.

“Okay, this isn't going to work,” Spot decides. “Lean back a little?”

“Hm?”

Spot wraps an arm around Race's chest and tugs him back slowly. Race doesn't resist and leans onto Spot, shifting to settle between his legs.

“There ya go. Comfy?”

“Mm. Did you call me cute earlier?” Spot smiles.

“Yeah, Ant.” Race looks up at him wide eyed and almost innocent looking, if Spot didn't know better.

“Oh. Why?”

“Cause you are.”

“Oh.” He's silent for a long moment before asking, “you really think that?”

“Yeah.” Spot kisses the top of his head gently. “I really do.”

“Why?” Race sounds confused, but not particularly distressed.

“Why? Cause I've seen the way your eyes sparkle when you're passionate about what you're talking about, and I've seen the way your hair looks all flat when you've just woken up, and I've seen you when you've had a long day and are exhausted and you just curl up and try to talk to me while you're already half asleep, and it's the cutest thing in the world, Ant.”

“Mm.” His hum sounds still slightly perplexed. “Why do you keep calling me Ant?”

“Short for Anthony.” Race hums again. “Do you not like it? I can stop.”

“I like it. It feels nice. It's warm.”

“Okay, Ant.” Race grins at the pet name. “Look at that happy smile,” Spot continues. “I love it when you smile, it's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen.” Race giggles.

“You really think that too?”

“Yeah, hon. I do. Your smile lights up the whole room, and I love the way that your eyes shine even more when you smile. You really are pretty.”

Race pauses for a second, tracing the hand that Spot has settled on his chest. He turns slightly, pressing his face into Spot's shirt again. Spot pets through his hair, waiting for Race to pull back.

“Do I get to kiss you?” he asks.

“What'd you ask?” Spot says playfully.

“Can I kiss you? Please, Spot? I really want-”

“Yeah,” Spot says, laughing. “I'm teasing, ‘f course you can kiss me.”

“You're mean,” Race decides. “Don't be mean.”

“Okay. You gonna kiss me now, pretty boy?”

Race leans up and kisses Spot's jaw lightly. It's not what Spot is expecting, but it's what Race asked for, and he's not going to tell him to stop. Race nips at his neck not nearly hard enough to bruise. He reaches up and tries to pull Spot's head down by his chin, but just smacks him squarely on his cheek.

“Oops,” he says, laughing. “M'sorry, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Spot says. “Are _you_?”

“I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?”

“Jus' making sure, Ant.”

“Oh. Okay. Gimme your face, I wanna kiss it.” Spot grins and lets Race turn around in his lap until he's straddling him again. Race doesn't hesitate before kissing Spot. He's gentler than he usually is and holds Spot like he's something to be treasured. To Race, he is.

Spot is attuned to Race mouthing at him, more open mouthed and sloppy than he is most nights, and chalks it up to the tequila that's still on Race's breath. Race pulls back somewhat, just enough so that he and Spot aren't touching anymore, before starting to laugh.

“What's so funny?” Spot teases, Race's infectious grin spreading to him. “Am I that bad of a kisser?” Race pulls back slightly more, looking horrified, and Spot braces a hand on his back so he doesn't fall.

“No,” Race says in completely seriousness. “It feels funny, though,” and laughs again.

“It does, a little.” Race moves his hand, pressing his thumb lightly against Spot's lips. “What're ya doing?”

“Shh,” Race whispers with intensity. “Having a moment.”

Spot smiles softly under Race's touch, and lets him have his moment.

Race is watching him intently with a gentle and wide eyed gaze that makes Spot feel more naked than he's ever been in the past. He presses a gentle kiss to Race's thumb, then takes Race's hand and presses a gentle kiss to his engagement ring.

“Oh,” Race says quietly. He drops his hand from Spot's face and buries his head in Spot's neck. Spot interlocks his fingers with Race's hand and raises his own to pet through Race's curly hair.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Spot asks in what's barely above a whisper. Race sighs deeply. Spot's fingers brush over the hair at the nape of Race's neck. “Your hair is getting long,” he acknowledges. Race hums, low enough in his throat that Spot feels it more than he hears it. “You gonna want me to cut it soon?”

“Mhm,” Race hums again.

“You're getting pretty sleepy, and it's-” He pauses to check the time. “-After one. You wanna go to bed?”

“Hmm. Okay,” Race says in easy agreement.

“You wanna walk?” Race shakes his head. “I'm gonna need you to move for a second, then.” Race lifts his head from the crook of Spot's neck. Spot slowly maneuvers his leg around Race before standing and scooping him up with ease. Race squirms slightly, trying to press a kiss to Spot's cheek.

“Not yet,” Spot says, boosting him up and carrying him into their bedroom. He manages to flip the lightswitch with his shoulder, and prays that Race's arms looped around his neck won't fail while he pulls their sheets back.

Race grabs at Spot the second after he's set down, covering Spot's face in warm wet kisses. Spot lets him and scratches at his hair for a few seconds before pulling away and smiling.

“You want pajamas, Ant?” he asks. Race almost squeals at the pet name after not having heard it for all of thirty minutes. He shrugs, blushing and looking down. “Come on,” Spot encourages, “D'you wanna get changed?”

“Can I wear your hoodie?” Race asks softly, seemingly embarrassed.

“Sure,” Spot says with a light laugh. “Which one?”

“The big dumb purple NYU one.” Spot just laughs again at his description.

“Yeah,” he agrees, grabbing it off the top of their dresser. “You can wear it.” He hands it to Race, who snatches it up and hugs it to his chest. “You want to get out of your clothes, though?” Race grins and wiggles. “Not like that,” Spot corrects himself. “We're just going to sleep.”

Race pouts, but it's dramatic enough that Spot knows he's only playing. He sets the hoodie down carefully next to himself. 

“Okay,” Race says, making no move to do it.

“You can't still be so drunk you can't get undressed, Race.”

“It's nicer if you do it.” Spot rolls his eyes, but moves towards Race, helping him stand and steadying him when he sways slightly. “Whoops,” Race laughs, patting Spot's hand on his hip.

Spot just sighs. He reaches down and undoes the button and zip of Race's jeans. They're loose enough that they drop to the floor once they're past his thighs, but Race stumbles and trips when trying to step out of them.

“Careful, careful,” Spot murmurs, “I've got ya.” It's a struggle, but Race manages to escape his jeans and tackles Spot in a hug once he does.

“I win,” Race announces.

“Yeah you do.” Spot grins. “Good job.” Race lets go of Spot and flops back onto the bed, bouncing a few times. Spot sheds his own clothes and tosses them on top of the dresser to be taken care of at some hypothetical future time, pulling on a pair of thick pajama pants. He climbs into bed opposite Race.

“Alright,” he says. “Want help with your shirt?”

“Mhm.”

“Put your arms up, pretty boy,” Spot instructs, and almost gets smacked in the face by a flailing, over enthusiastic Race. He pulls both Race's tshirt and undershirt off in one swift motion, letting Race drop his arms back to his sides. He kisses Race's shoulder and reaches for the sweatshirt.

“Changed my mind,” Race says. “No hoodie.”

“Okay,” Spot responds easily. “Can-”

“I'm keeping it, though.”

“Okay. Let's tuck you in, yeah?” Race nods and kicks his legs up, wiggling around until he's more or less on his side of the bed. Spot pulls the covers over him and pushes his hair back, leaning over and kissing him on the forehead. Race grabs at his shoulder, pulling him down to press their lips together and smile goofily. It's an awkward position, but Spot lets him.

“I'm going to get the light, okay?” he says once Race stops kissing him. “I'm not leaving, promise.”

“Okay.”

Spot moves quickly, flipping the lightswitch and stepping over Race's jeans to get into bed.

“Hey,” Race whispers once Spot is situated next to him. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“No,” Race says insistently, “you have to guess.”

“I don't know, pretty boy,” Spot tells him. “What's up?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Race.”

“I like when you say it back.”

“I'm glad, because I like saying it back.” Spot reaches out under the blankets and sets a hand on Race's side. “Go to sleep.”

Race hums, and Spot becomes very aware that the object Race is so protectively hugging to his chest is his NYU hoodie.

Race manages to stay quiet for all of a minute.

“Hey, Spot.” Spot sighs inwardly and rubs Race's side.

“Yeah?”

“Can we still have sex tomorrow?”

“If we're both feeling like it, yeah.”

“Okay.”

Race brings his legs up to his chest and curls in on himself. Spot could've sworn he'd finally fallen asleep after five minutes of quiet. And then-

“I wanna marry you, Spot.” It's barely audible, even in their silent bedroom.

Spot swells with pride and love and joy and some other indescribable emotion that makes his heart feel too big for his body.

“Soon, Race,” he promises. “We're doing it soon. We're working on it.”

“I'm glad.”

“I can't wait to marry you,” Spot allows himself to gush. “Now go to sleep, Ant.” Race hums and scoots over enough that Spot's arm is draped over his waist as opposed to his hand. Spot can feel Race's body heat radiating off of him. He trusts that Race has fallen asleep as he feels his breathing even out and there's been significant time without any commentary from him, but something still prevents Spot from sleeping.

“Yeah,” he announces to himself and the darkness. “I'm gonna marry you, Race. And it's going to be the best day of my life.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow it's been almost a whole six months since I've posted anything. I got tired of making Race sad, so here's some pure tender gay stuff. You'll have to pry sappy Spot and his pet names from my cold bare hands. I love my boys, I love my best friend @poor_guys_headisspinning for cheering me on with this, and I love you for reading. As always, comments/kudos/bookmarks are more than appreciated!!


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